


Cold.

by whisperedEcho



Series: The breath of Winter [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, DreamSMP - Freeform, Ghosts, Other, Post-Season 1 (Dreamsmp), Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28259643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedEcho/pseuds/whisperedEcho
Summary: Wilbur is dead. Wilbur tries to remember.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: The breath of Winter [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028943
Kudos: 23





	Cold.

** Cold. **

  
The emptiness was warm. The dark ripples of the void enveloping the faint remains of a consciousness. The soul - for that is the only thing it could be - flickered and gently faded. It was content to rest, the darkness smoothing over old wounds and smothering memories. The soul drifted, further and further away from anything that could be called ‘life’, content amongst the peaceful silence.  


But something was wrong. A breeze drifted through the darkness, cold air causing the soul to startle. The breeze turned into wind, and the soul stopped being an ‘it’ and started being a ‘he’. He was confused. There was ice all about, a shocking contrast from the gentle warmth of the void. Wind swirled, the leaves of a tree - when had a tree appeared?

He grimaced, things and names and feelings rushing through his mind, only to slip away and be replaced by something new. There was ice, there was a stone, there was a tree, there was a...man?

Someone - someone with orange hair and strange ears was huddled against the wind. The spirit - for that was what he had become - reached out with a gentle curiosity, and brushed his fingers through the fiery hair.

_Fundy_.

Fundy. That was the fox-man’s name. He was Fundy. He is Fundy.  He is my son.

Love, so fierce and tragic overwhelmed the spirit, and he wrapped his arms around Fundy. Tears, translucent and wavering, fell from white eyes. He didn’t know who or what he was, he didn’t understand why he grieved, he didn’t understand what had happened.

But the spirit knew that the man curled up against the cold was named Fundy. And the spirit knew that he loved him.  


Time had no meaning anymore, few things did. Wilbur, for at some point he had learned his own name, drifted through the world, knowing little and remembering less.

_  
Fundy is his son. He loves Fundy. Niki is beautiful, he loves her too. Philza was his father. Philza had killed him. Tommy was his brother. Tommy was lonely. Technoblade was his brother, but he was not. Tubbo was president of L’manburg. Tubbo is Tommy’s friend. Dream is a god. Dream and Technoblade are the same. _

Wilbur repeated those things in his head again and again and again. Those things he Knew. He always remembered those things. Everything else...blurred and slipped away.

Time was for the living. Grief and regret were for the living. Wilbur was not alive, and so he was carefree. His son was sad, and Wilbur couldn’t understand why. Tommy was not in L’manburg, Wilbur couldn’t remember why.

One moment he was talking to Tubbo, the next he was deep in the wilderness. Faces and things blurred and merged, it was as if Wilbur was nothing more than a breeze, something that could fade at any moment.

When he was with Fundy or Niki, he felt real, and he felt warm. They staved off the horrible cold within Wilbur. They helped the world come into focus, they helped him remember.

When he was with Dream or Technoblade, he felt real, but he felt cold. So bone-chillingly cold he was surprised that his soul hadn’t frozen into a block of ice. Something innate within those two was sharp and vivid. They were more than just real. Wilbur could see the old power burning within them, pulling everything in, devouring all remains of warmth Wilbur had left.

When he was alone, he felt as formless as a breath.

Wilbur knew he was not meant to be in the land of the living. He longed for the gentle void, his soul yearning to become shattered and formless. The void was warm and gentle...but so was Fundy and Niki.

Grief was for the living, but Love never abandoned the dead.

He would not stay forever. But he would stay.

Perhaps that would keep him warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry abt the scuffed imagery and overuse of metaphors lol, trying to depict a dissociative awareness is hard (bc headass dissociation is when brain says: no❤️) Might do something with the butcher army (they’re so bad at their job it hilarious) and philza’s house arrest soon! probs some more Dream and Techno interactions bc i live for their ‘enemies but also simps’ dynamic.


End file.
